“Megan recorded it.”
Margaret’s eyebrows rose.
“She recorded the slap?”
“Her phone was pointed at me.”
Richard’s face hardened again.
“And Ruth saw it,” I added.
“Our neighbor.”
“Then preserve what you can,” Margaret said.
“Do not confront anyone alone.”
My phone buzzed on the table.
Gerald.
I stared at the screen until it stopped.
Then Donna called.
Then Megan.
Gerald again.
The fourth call came from Megan.
This time she left a voicemail.
I listened on speaker.
Her voice came out sharp and frightened.
“Where are you? Dad says if you don’t come home tonight, don’t bother coming back.
And he wants the stuff you took from storage.
He says it isn’t yours.”
Margaret and Richard both looked at the envelope.
I replayed the message.
The stuff you took from storage.
Gerald knew.
Maybe not before the party.
But now he did.
Margaret said, “Save that voicemail.”
Another message arrived.
Donna this time.
Please come home.
Your father is upset.
Don’t make this worse.
I stared at the words.
Not: Are you safe?
Not: I’m sorry he hit you.
Don’t make this worse.
I turned my phone facedown.
“I want to report it.”
Richard didn’t smile.
He didn’t celebrate.
He simply nodded.
“All right.”
The next several hours felt unreal.
I gave a statement.
My cheek was photographed.
I explained the party, the slap, the witnesses, and Megan’s phone.
Margaret stayed nearby but let me answer for myself.
Richard waited across the room.
Ruth answered when I called.
The moment she heard my voice, she began crying.
“I should have done more,” she said.
“You stood up.”
“So should everyone else.”
She agreed to tell the truth about what she saw.
